


Thanksgiving

by joely_jo



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Pre-The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), The Unremarkable House (X-Files)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joely_jo/pseuds/joely_jo
Summary: Mulder and Scully's first night in the Unremarkable House.





	Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't particularly set out to make this sad, but I think it maybe is, when you place it in the context of what happened afterwards. Inspired by the picture that has been floating around on tumblr recently.

 

He’s been in a strange place for a while now, craving something other than what they have, unsure if there’s a remedy for his mood, or if this is just how things are; perhaps four years of being on the run does something to you on a cellular level, changes you forever so you look at things you’d once poured scorn on in new and different ways. _This is a normal life_ , he’d told her once upon a time in the middle of the Nevada desert and only part of him had been joking.

This night, it is all different.

Long after their last passions have dimmed, and her eyes have closed, he lies awake, sleepless in the silence. In the lull of the early hours, he realises that, for as long as he lives, he will never forget this bare, blue room. The freshly-purchased mattress beneath them, its expanse spread out behind him, unused as they rest close in each other’s arms. The old-fashioned floral drapes, left here by the previous owners, blow gently into the room, letting in a tingling, sharp breeze with each exhalation. How the old trees behind the house sigh and shiver whenever that breeze changes direction.

He realises quite suddenly and with unexpected clarity how much he loves it all. How they now lay together in the darkness of a room that is their own. How he can see the stars peeping through the gap in the drapes; how he knows they will be the same stars he’ll see in a week, a month, a year. The tired creaking of the antique bedstead beneath them that speaks to him of other lovers that have rested in its arms. The smoky dampness of the November morning that slowly dawns around him, mixing in sublime measure with the warm, sweet smell of her skin.

But most of all he loves the woman who sleeps on his arm as those sights, sounds and scents combine. This woman who has been through so much with him, for him, and yet is still here. She is peaceful, for once her face smooth, serene and faraway in dreams. The weight of her head and her thick, soft hair lies full on his upper arm, and the thought of the tingle that it will bring when she wakes thrills him.

And when eventually her eyes open and she looks at him, he does not feel like he has been awake all night. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mulder,” she murmurs, and he smiles and reaches for her, his heart full to bursting.

Later, he pads naked down the uncarpeted stairs and makes tea amid the packing boxes in the kitchen. Before, quiet like this would have had his neck prickling and his hackles rising, but something about this place puts him at ease, relaxed like he has not been in years. He felt it when they first walked over the threshold and it was why he kept bringing her back, even when he knew she preferred other properties. He throws open the window and hears the panicked chatter of a startled bird outside in the yard. He stands surveying his new domain, thinking of the day ahead, making the kind of plans he has never made before. Tea and toast in bed, propped on pillows. Then later, because there is nowhere to go and the car can stand idle in the driveway, a little more love-making to celebrate their new home.

 

xxx


End file.
